


Thermostat

by avocado315



Category: Klaus (2019)
Genre: Drabble, M/M, Melancholy, Pining, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-29
Updated: 2019-11-29
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:14:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21602029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avocado315/pseuds/avocado315
Summary: isnt the winter so lonely and arent you tired of feeling that way
Relationships: Jesper Johanssen/Klaus
Comments: 7
Kudos: 123





	Thermostat

Not a day goes by where I don’t think about you. 

That’s weird. That’s a weird thing to say.

...Honestly, though? It’s driving me a little crazy! Genuinely, infuriatingly CRAZY.

Sometimes, if the night is especially cold, and the blankets aren’t warm enough, I swear I can hear the sweet jingle of bells just outside the window. But as soon as I open my eyes, the moon just stares back at me, mockingly, as if I were the biggest fool on the planet for thinking that you might be here.

For thinking that you never left.

Waiting is awfully lonely. I mean, well… That’s a horrible thing to say. I’m not lonely. I have a great life here. I do. I love my family. Very much! 

...But it gets so cold, sometimes. 

It gets very, very cold, actually, more than you ever think it could. I don’t know. The winter just feels like it gets worse every year, like every gust of wind latches onto my body and then I just can’t get warm! I try, I really, REALLY do try. The warmth, though… It just doesn’t come.

I’ll lie awake at night and stare at the ceiling, worrying about the leaky tiles, worrying about the creaks I hear late at night, worrying and worrying about every little thing, all the time, constantly. Worrying and cold and frightened and so darn COLD.

On that special night, once a year, when the fire is lit and it feels as if my eyelids are glued open… That’s when the heat works its way through my skin. I can feel again. I’ll reach out and watch the color return to my hands. Tendrils of fire will leap at me, goading me into the flame, as if they were trying to say… Something.

And then you show up, quiet as you always have been.

And I feel tension in my throat, in my lungs, in my heart.

And I look up the stairs, down the hall, through the window, always watching, as if I am committing some sort of indirect atrocity.

And you look at me. 

And you smile.

And I breathe.

That’s my favorite part. Sure, the air is as dry as it is outside, but when I inhale this time, there is no pain. There is no empty, lonely cold. 

It’s warm. It’s familiar.

It’s you.  
It’s always you.


End file.
